


Shattered Glass

by muzicwolf



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I just wanted to use the first chapter as a tester, This work is on haitus, basically they don't care about anyone in the kingdom except for themselves, decided I'm gonna keep the title, no prince charming here, romance free fic, soulless royalty au, tags and such will change later, very loosely, very loosely Cinderella based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzicwolf/pseuds/muzicwolf
Summary: This is not the Cinderella story you know, and definitely not the one you asked for.
When Ella's parents pass away, her stepmother sends her to an orphanage. But she only just creates a home for herself there when she's ripped away to be a servant for the palace. The royal family is not the kind-hearted people that Ella expected, and she starting to find that it's much harder than her than her mother believed to find the good in people.
{This fic is very very loosely based on Cinderella. Hope you didn't come here looking for happily ever after.}





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my Cinderella fic!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and tell me what you think. However, this fic will be on haitus until further notice. I want to focus on my two Voltron fics before I get too deeply involved with this one.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Have you ever had a nightmare that woke you up in a cold sweat? What about one that paralyzes you? One that shocks you so bad you can’t breathe… And you wake up feeling like you just have to run, but you can’t bring your arms or legs to move. 

I think it’s even worse that it always seems to happen in the dead of night. Instead of having the warmth of the sunlight of the new day for comfort, you end up laying there, suffocating in the darkness. 

I used to think that was the worst thing that could happen. Waking up from a nightmare. But I was wrong. Sometimes I wish I still woke up from nightmares, because it meant waking up. I’ve realized now that the only thing worse than waking up from a nightmare… is living in one.

~~~

_“Everything will be alright Ella. I’ll always be watching over you.”_

That’s what mother had told me. And as a child, I believed her because children have faith in their parents. Children rely on the comforting words of their parents. Children look to their parents to tell them that everything will turn out alright in the end. 

I was so young when she passed away. But I can recall every detail of our last conversation with complete clarity. The way she held my hand. Her palms had been clammy and she was cold, even with all the blankets. I remember the way she brushed my hair out of my eyes when I looked down at her. 

I remember that she told me I should always be kind, that I should always help those in need, and that I should never judge people’s actions before knowing their motives. They were such large messages that my young mind couldn’t quite grasp. But I tried my best to do as she asked, part of me hoping and wishing that if I did everything she asked that she would get better.

I remember the way she smiled. Father used to say that her smile could make the rain clouds part. It could make flowers bloom as if it were the sunshine itself. It rained the day she died, and it rained for a week after that. To my innocent childish mind, it seemed that mother had taken all of the sunshine away with her.

But father did everything to make sure that I was happy, even though he often had to leave for business. Sometimes he would bring back flowers. I loved all the colors and different shapes. I would always go and show them to mother right away because I knew that she would love them as much as I did.

After one trip he brought a Willow sapling home. He told me that an old willow tree had been struck by lightning, leaving the small sapling to fend for itself with no protection from the older tree. Thinking about it made me kind of sad. That tree and I had something it common. We’d both lost something important. Father helped me plant the tree by mothers grave, saying that one day the tree would be big enough to watch over mother whenever we weren’t around.

My favorite gifts were the books. I loved experiencing all the adventures will the characters in the books. Father hated that I was always so lonely, but with the stories, I didn’t feel so alone. I would sit by the willow tree and read. To myself. To mother. To the Willow tree. To whoever was listening.

But…but sometimes I wonder if I was selfish. I was too consumed with my own thoughts to realize that father was hurting just as much as I was, probably more. After all, he knew so much more about mother than I ever will. 

Father found solace in the embrace of another woman, and for the first time, I felt something other than loneliness. I was angry. I was angry that he could move on so quickly. I couldn’t understand how he could do something like that.

And I couldn’t understand him when he said they were going to marry and that herself and her two daughters were going to be living with us. That we were going to be a family. I didn’t understand that one of the reasons my father did all of this so quickly was because he didn’t want me to feel so lonely. 

But he didn’t know what they were like whenever he was away. They made me a servant in my own home. And the only comfort I could find was underneath mothers Willow. Even so, I looked for any opportunity to smile. If mother was still looking down on me from a better place, she would want to see me smiling. I did my best to be kind to my step sisters and step mother. I pushed my anger and frustration away and looked for the best in them. 

Mother said that you’d always find good in people if you looked hard enough. Mother was a good person, but I realize now that she was, perhaps, a little bit too trusting. Because of the kindness my mother instilled in me, I never noticed the plan my step mother was brewing.

 

Mother… father… It’s raining again. And now there are two graves that seem to be mocking me. I don’t know how I am supposed to go on believing that you’re both here with me. For the second time, it seems like the sun will never come out again.

My bags are packed and I’ll be leaving home soon. Step-mother has decided that she has no use for me. I have no family left here and my home is no longer my own. Even if she did still have use for me, I do not believe that I would be able to stay knowing what she’s done.  Everything feels like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.

And I’m not sure if I can continue smiling.


End file.
